opening old wounds
by agentcalliope
Summary: Because Jemma can listen. Jemma can comfort. Jemma can even make him forget for a little while. But Daisy knows.


Jemma says he doesn't care anymore, but this is Fitz, and Fitz always cares.

Daisy chews on her lip, mulling over all the words she could possibly say over and over again in her head before finally choosing which ones she feels are right.

"And you believe him?" She brings the steaming mug to her nose and inhales the sweet smell, keeping her focus on Jemma and the knot in her stomach that just keeps on growing.

Jemma sighs and stirs her tea absent-mindedly. "Well, I mean. Of _course_ he still cares, on some level. This _is_ Fitz, after all." She shakes her head and puts down the spoon, meeting Daisy's eyes. "And I can listen, and I can comfort. I can even make him forget it for a little while. But I can't _know_."

 _Ah,_ Daisy thinks, pursing her lips and taking a sip, letting the tea burn her tongue. _Jemma can't know what it feels like. Can't know what it's like to grow up wanting a father. Wanting a father even if you already have one and wanting a father even when the one you have isn't really one at all._

Daisy knows.

(She just wishes that she didn't, and that Fitz didn't either)

* * *

"Knock knock," Daisy says softly, knocking on the door and rests her hand on the doorknob as she waits. There's a beep as the door is unlocked and a quiet 'Come in', and Daisy swings the door open wide.

Fitz leans against the headboard, eyes directed on his tablet, and papers upon papers are scattered across the covers of the bed.

"If you're reading your tablet," Daisy starts. "Why are there papers all over the place?"

"If you knock on the door, why do you still say 'knock knock'?" He replies just as fast, glancing up at her.

She has to give him that one, so she laughs and notices how he looks back down before the corners of his mouth turn up.

"Touché, Fitz. Touché." With a dramatic sigh, Daisy flops onto the bed with such a force the papers that aren't stuck underneath her body flutter through the air.

"Daisy!" Fitz chides. "These are important!"

Daisy reaches beneath her and pulls out a piece, pretending for a moment that the unintelligible syllables actually mean something before tossing it aside onto Fitz's lap.

"Looks like Greek to me."

Fitz places his tablet on the bedside table before picking up the paper gingerly, trying to smooth out the crinkles and the creases.

"I'm just trying to find May." He finally says, after a long pause.

 _Shit._

Daisy slips out of bed without a word and gathers all the papers together, including the one held in Fitz's hands and places them neatly on the floor. She climbs back onto the bed but lies on her side so she can face him.

"Shit."

Fitz laughs and rubs his eyes, which tells Daisy that he's not really laughing at all.

"Yeah. That's a very accurate description, actually."

Daisy brushes a piece of hair behind her ear and inhales, the sudden sharpness of tears tickling her eyes.

(But thinking and talking and crying about May is for another time. She musters the strength to push May out of her mind and pull Fitz in.)

"It always has to be something else, doesn't it?" She finally says, spitting out the words. "It's never 'hey, here's something shitty but it's gonna be the only shitty thing you get, okay?' There's always another shoe to drop."

"Speaking of which, can you take yours off?"

"Because it's _so_ overwhelming, all this shit that we've gone through." Daisy continues, not making any indication of taking off her boots. "Like, will it ever _end?_ Are we gonna have to deal with shit for the rest of our lives?"

He doesn't have an answer, not that she was expecting him to. But minutes pass and the weight of the silence is so heavy she feels as if she's suffocating. She shifts closer until she can rest her head on his shoulder and bring her arm around his waist, and feel him lean back onto her.

"You were the first person to tell me that it was okay to be different," Daisy whispers. "That although I went through something horrible it didn't mean I was broken or damaged. I'm sorry that you had to learn that on your own."

She doesn't dare look at him. She stares at the wall across from her and continues. "You were the first person that understood how I felt about my dad. You listened to my pain and my hurt without ever comparing it to yours. I'm sorry that you didn't have anyone like I had you."

Daisy squeezes her eyes shut and squeezes him hard, the knot inside her stomach growing.

"But mostly I'm sorry that I left you like _he_ left you." The words spill out before she can hold them in. "I'm sorry that I couldn't see beyond my own pain to see the pain that it would cause you. But I'm not leaving now. I'm staying right here. Let me be the person you were for me. I _know_. I understand. And I promise I'm a better listener now than I have been."

She waits, and waits, and waits until he's ready to tell her what he wants to say.

"LMD Radcliffe said he— _Radcliffe_ —didn't want to 'open old wounds'." Fitz croaks, and his body shudders with he inhales. "Like I haven't been thinking about it for every bloody day of my bloody life. My da _chose_ to leave me. I wasn't good enough for him and I wasn't smart enough or clever enough and I wasn't enough to make him stay."

"But you are good enough," Daisy interrupts, holding him closer unwilling to let her thoughts be unheard. "You are so, _so_ good. And smart. And clever. If you weren't enough to make him stay, then he didn't deserve you."

"You know, my mother and my teachers always said I was smart, but mothers and teachers _always_ say that." Fitz draws out each word, like he's slowly tasting the way they roll off his tongue. It's like he's been drowning- like he's been drowning for longer than when he was at the bottom of the sea and now he's finally swimming towards the surface.

(Daisy keeps silent, wanting to hear what else he has to say even though she knows that not all mothers and not all teachers always say that their children are smart.)

"But when I met Jemma, all I wanted to be was smart and good enough for her."

"And?"

"And she made me realize that I always was."

Daisy opens her eyes and tilts her head up towards him, meeting his eyes.

"If you weren't enough to make him stay," she repeats, her voice firm and steady. "Then he didn't deserve you. And _you,_ you deserve better, Fitz."

He looks so tired. He looks like a boy who was forced to become a man too early. He looks like a boy who was forced to become a man too early but still believes that people are good even though he has every reason not to.

And he looks at her with such affection Daisy wants to run away but grab him grab Jemma and take them with her and keep them safe.

"Who needs a dad when I got you, huh?"

She punches him lightly and groans. "I cannot believe we were having a moment and you had to _ruin_ it."

"Daisy." He whines, pretending to rub his arm and grimacing although his lips curl into a smile.

"Oh, shut up." Daisy pulls him into another hug, this time placing her head in the crook of his neck.

"I love you." Daisy utters.

"Love you too." Fitz answers.

"I'll dad the shit out of you if you dad the shit outta me."

"Deal."

* * *

The door creaks open, and Jemma tries to slip in as silently as she can. She fumbles for the light switch for just a moment before finding it, and turns it on dim.

Fitz and Daisy are tangled in each other, sleeping soundly. Fitz is drooling and Daisy is snoring and there is absolutely _no_ room in the bed for her at all but Jemma thinks she has never seen anything more perfect.


End file.
